Dangerous Liaisons
by Punk not dead
Summary: B/V AU. No matter how far or how fast you run, the past always catches up to you.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own DBZ, and sadly none of the characters from it are mine either.

**Warnings**: bad language, adult situations… heed the rating.

**Prompt:** Pride.

**Summary**: No matter how far or how fast you run, the past always catches up to you.

**Dangerous Liaisons**

_Chapter I:_

Once upon a time, she wouldn't have called coming home to his figure lounging in her couch and drinking her expensive scotch an unpleasant surprise, but considering how they left things between them over five years ago, that's exactly what she calls it now.

Trouble seems to follow whenever Vegeta is involved, and she doesn't need that on top of the shitty day she had. The fact that, in spite of the time and distance spamming between them the sight of him still makes her heart beat faster, is not exactly adding to the joy of meeting him again.

She is already marching towards him, glare firmly in place and a scathing remark at the tip of her tongue, when his voice stops her in her tracks just as efficiently as if someone had physically punched her and knocked all the air out of her.

"Honey, I'm home", he drawls; a half smirk she has come to know as the bearer of nothing good adorning his face.

Her already incensed blood is now burning. It's uncanny the ability he has to rile her up in a matter of seconds; one would think that after all this time she should have curved him out of her system, but no, he remains firmly rooted beneath her skin, like some kind of chronic disease there is no way of escaping.

"Yes, I can see that. Now kindly get the fuck out!" She growls at him.

"Careful Bulma, your bitch is showing. That's no way to treat a guest." He tuts; a mock-stern finger separating from those still holding the glass of scotch and pointing at her.

She is by his side in two strides and viciously snatches the glass from him. "I'll show you bitch if you don't go back to the hole you crawled out from and leave me alone."

In spite of the cadence of her words, he knows they are lacking real anger and all he hears is a threat and promise all in one. Bantering used to be their default mode of communication, and it amazes him how fast they can pick up from where they left off.

"Oh please do, I still have the marks of your claws in my back from the last time you let her come out. You are very welcomed to add a few more."

She sights and decides to change the course of the conversation; she can feel a familiar heat creeping up her spine, and it's dangerous; very dangerous. Her eyes rest on the remaining amber liquid sitting in the tumbler; she could do with a little liquid courage, after all this was Vegeta we are talking about, and so she tilts it up and lets it burn down her throat. "What do you want Vegeta?" she asks after a beat, and she blames the huskiness of her tone on the scotch; it has nothing to do with the fact that she could swear she tasted him too.

And then comes the million-dollar question: What does he want? For a moment he thinks about answering with the truth and say a simple you, but nothing is ever simple between them, and his pride won't allow him to; and so he settles for his speciality: half truths.

"I want you to come back." Is his simple answer, but the implications that it carries are everything but.

Her eyes widen for a second and then she is back to scowling at him. She can't believe he is asking that of her. "You know I left that life behind me a long time ago."

And he does, the "I left _you_ behind" in her words rings loudly enough.

"Yes, by the way, how is your little charade going on? What was his name? Yamaha?" His worlds are designed to cut, and they do; her reaction is immediate.

"You leave him out of this!" She shouts at him, eyes ablaze and mouth curling into a snarl.

The tumbler goes flying though the air and crashes clangorously behind him. It provides the perfect excuse for his reaction. He doesn't want to show her how much it stings the way she readily defends the scoundrel. "Then come with me!" He shouts back, matching her tone and coming to stand nose to nose with her.

Everything is silent after that. He says nothing more for several moments, just stares at her with those intense eyes of his.

She tries to hold his gaze, but her stomach squirms uncomfortably and her breathing becomes shallower, making her feel dizzy. It's not the silence that disconcerts her, it's not the piercing look he's giving her; it's the way the air crackles between them, the way it becomes so thick with something she can't or doesn't want to identify. So thick she can barely breath.

Her voice is shaky when she talks again, and she hates it. It comes out weak, and so very breathless, her pride hurts; he doesn't deserve to know how much he affects her.

"Okay, I will. When are we leaving?" she asks and takes a step back. His close proximity isn't helping her maintain the illusion of aloofness she wants to project.

He wasn't expecting her to cave in so easily and so he is a little off put by her compliance. "Right now", he spits at her, knowing it's unnecessary but taking relish in the way her face falls. There would be no goodbyes between her and her new boy-toy, not if he can help it.

Bulma is taken aback by his answer, but just shakes her head and leaves him standing in her living room while she goes to her room to pack. She tells herself she is doing it to protect Yamcha and nothing more; the fact that she feels alive again for the first time in so long has nothing to do with it, and neither does the man watching her resting against her doorframe.

And when blue and black clash, she recites her new mantra in her head: "_I love Yamcha, I love Yamcha, I love Yamcha, I do!_"

She just doesn't know why it feels like it's not enough.

.

_Review? =)... Constructive Criticism is always welcomed too! _

_*Shamelessly self-advertising* If you liked this, check out _**_Spark of Blue_**_, _**_Drabbles from Mirai time_**_ and _**_Wishing Well _**_;) I could do with your opinion to improve my writing._

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><p><strong><em>Author's note:<em>** This series is based upon the Sin-Week prompts at Maddiesan's Blue and Black livejournal community, and so the time between updates will depend sorely upon the posting of new prompts.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own DBZ, and sadly none of the characters from it are mine either.

**Warnings**: bad language, adult situations… heed the rating.

**Prompt:** Wrath.

**Summary**: No matter how far or how fast you run, the past always catches up to you.

**Dangerous Liaisons**

_Chapter II:_

The big, ostentatious grandfather clock carefully propped against the back corner of the living room marks eleven and twenty-two, it's constant ticking sound permeating the air boisterously as time goes by; and Vegeta swears that if the needle makes another round and she is not getting that pert little ass of hers through the door, he will go caveman style on it and drag her out screaming and kicking if need be.

Now that he imagines it, he wills the needle to move faster; maybe a little exercise is what he needs, and it never hurts to feel a beautiful woman wriggling in your arms either; Alas, she has a nasty habit of raining on his parade, and not a second after he thinks about it she is marching towards him, duffel bag in hand and apparently ready to go.

She is wearing a nude silk blouse that cinches at her tiny waist and what looks like a very expensive pair of chino pants toped off by sky-high heels. Her blue hair is pulled into an artfully messy chignon and she is wearing makeup.

He doesn't recognize this woman.

For a moment he worries that this new life style of hers has erased all traces of the woman he once had come to know so well, but then he sees the little quirk that's pulling her plump lips just a tinny bit upwards, and realizes she is purposefully messing with him.

Matching the mischievous glint reflecting in her eyes, and in the most infuriating condescend voice he can muster he proceeds to follow in her little game. "I'm sorry princess, were you expecting me to bring the limo or is it that somehow you managed to lose all common sense since the last time I saw you?"

Her lips are now forming a definite smirk and she is amused despite herself. It irks her a bit the fact that he can see through her so easily, but the hint of anger lacing his question does not go unnoticed by her; she can see right through him as well. And like the bitch she is, she decides to add a pinch of salt to her next words.

"Oh, don't worry _dah_-ling. I know a limo is not something you can afford, and this outfit would clash with one anyway, it's more a Buggati kind of one." She tells him.

It wasn't easy at the beginning, but it's been a while now since she perfected the snotty upper-class drawl, and all her answer needs to be lethal is a well-placed dismissing once-over.

She lets her gaze run up and down his seething figure, from the tip of his worn-down leather boots, to his faded jeans, up to his white wife-beater and leather jacket combo and finishing at the top of his unruly flame-styled raven hair. And when she sees the way his brow furrows, she thinks that maybe she went too far. There is too much bad blood between them; too many landmines scattered around to think she could go back to push his buttons and escape unscathed; Not when her situation is already so precarious.

He had forgotten how keen she was at punching where it hurts the most; and hurt it does. He has been fighting the urge to throw up since he set foot into her condo. Everywhere he looks at there are fragments of a life that could never be his, a life he couldn't give her and a life she went out and found with someone else, staring right back at him. The only consolation is in the stench of lies that permeates every crevice in the room; in the way her smile doesn't reach her eyes in not even one single photograph.

But no matter how he rationalizes it, there is no preventing the way his face darkens at her reminder.

Silence stretches between them and the clock keeps on ticking in the background. Even thou there is nothing more he wants to do than to grab one of her fancy portraits and smash it into the fucking thing, he is not ready to give her the satisfaction of losing control.

But nice time is over; He could always play the bastard to her bitch.

"Yes, you used to have a thing for fast cars back in the day too. I can certainly remember your fondness for the back seat of my Camaro. One glimpse at that leather interior and your clothes were off faster than I could say: Get in."

The time for make-believe is over. If she wants to pretend she is so much better than him, she has another thing coming. He knows her inside out, more than he knows himself, and has the key to a closet full of skeletons.

"Does it comes that easy to you, to be such an hypocrite bitch, or do you practice in front of the mirror when scar-face is gone?"

"Don't", she warns him. "Don't you ever think for a minute that you can judge me, and don't presume that you know anything about me anymore, you jackass!"

"But I do," he says, dismissing her words and springing from the couch where he was lounging.

He backs her into the wall, his warm breath caressing her ear and his fingers on her skin following every word he says. "I know every little thing about you, from the way you like your coffee, to how you sound purring in my ear when I bring you over the ledge, to how talented you are with a pair of…"

"Stop it," she yells as she tries to wretch away from his hold. She can't take it any longer. Something inside her aches at his words, and she doesn't want to think about it. She can't afford to let him drag her back in, not after the last time. "_I love Yamcha, I love Yamcha, I love Yamcha, I do!_" Somehow her little mantra doesn't work any better the second time around.

He is not done, and he is not letting her go until he is. "Why should I?" he asks locking eyes with her. "Do you want me to pretend I don't know this is all a lie?" he continues, tracing one finger down her front. "You can try and live in denial all you want, but I know who you really are, and this is not her. Not even close."

He sees the tears hidden in the way her eyes glaze over and has to turn his back on her; can still hear the rapid way she is breathing, but forces himself to ignore it. "Go put some real clothes on so we can leave this shit hole." He spits at her.

Bulma is too shaken to protest. She already wants to get whatever this is over and done with. The faster she does it, the faster she can get her life back. But she is afraid, afraid of the life she worked so hard to forge falling around her like a house of cards; afraid of leaving and never coming back.

She goes back to her room and emerges not ten minutes latter, clad in dark blue skinny jeans, a pair of black cargo boots, a red t-shirt and a black leather jacket. She tries to ignore the way his gaze makes her shiver and after picking up her duffel bag goes straight to the door and throws it open.

When he fails to follow after her immediately, she founds her voice again and addresses him. "What are you waiting for? Want me to drag out the red carpet?"

Vegeta shakes his head and strides by her not bothering to say a word. Inside he is glad she recovered so fast, the whole ordeal will go more smoothly if they aren't at each other throats. Maybe when all is over, he can finally get some answers.

Once they reach the street, there is a huge black, red and silver motorbike waiting for them. He gets on and pats the seat behind him, a smirk blossoming at the sigh of her shocked face.

"I thought this was at the bottom of the river," she can't help but blurt out.

"You though wrong. Now, get on!"

She does, and off they go. It feels surreal, like something out of her wildest dreams. It's not after her phone rings for the hundredth time with a missed call from Yamcha and finds death at the hands of Vegeta, that it dawns on her: It's really happening, there went her last means of contact with her "_life_".

"I'm going home," she whispers into the night, and a smiling Vegeta pretends he didn't hear that.

.

_Review? =)... Constructive Criticism is always welcomed too! _

_*Shamelessly self-advertising* If you liked this, check out _**_Spark of Blue_**_, _**_Drabbles from Mirai time_**_ and _**_Wishing Well _**_;) I could do with your opinion to improve my writing._

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><p>Thanks to <strong>Lassaro<strong>, **Preciousjade79** and **Cara2012** for their reviews!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own DBZ, and sadly none of the characters from it are mine either.

**Warnings**: bad language, adult situations… heed the rating.

**Prompt:** Envy.

**Summary**: No matter how far or how fast you run, the past always catches up to you.

**Dangerous Liaisons**

_Chapter III:_

A warm breeze blows, the sky is wide an open before them and the sun is slowly rising, bathing everything in a golden haze and making the fast approaching city look surreal, like the perfect place described at the end of the road in so many adventure novels right when the heroine and the hero are coming back home.

They've been travelling for most of the night, and Bulma feels like the whole universe is conspiring against her presenting her with such a heart-wrenching sight. So she just closes her eyes tightly and buries her face in Vegeta's back, trying her hardest to avoid thinking about how her heart feels like it's about to burst from her ribcage.

She wasn't expecting to be so nervous, but now, when everything is so imminent, she can't help but be simply be.

There is so much that could go wrong, so much she ignores waiting for her; somewhere between bitching at Vegeta to stop to rest and his avoidance in telling her what's going on, it dawned on her that maybe if seeing him again was one of the hardest things about her past reaching up to her, there is still a bunch of people, loved people, she left behind too. A bunch of people she will be seeing again soon, and she worries that they will hate her, or worse, that they won't remember her.

Vegeta is not immune to the sight either, and the feel of her pressed against his back brings back many a memory about endless nights and days spent together. Somewhere along the vicinity of his chest he feels a tightness he hasn't felt in a long time, but even as his heart skips a beat (or two) at her familiar gesture, he is still torn between thinking that coming to get her was a mistake, and berating himself for not doing it sooner. Maybe if he had pushed his issues aside and had gone after her when everything went sour, things would be different now and nothing would have happened. But the time for contemplations and doubts comes to an end soon enough, and before they know it, they are suddenly cruising through the heart of the city.

They pass right by the upper class neighbourhoods and the suburbs, and take the less travelled path towards downtown. The streets in this part of the city are busy and filled with people despite the early hour, and Vegeta has to waver his bike in between hordes of angry pedestrians and cargo vehicles as they go; finally, after much cursing involved and a few intentional almost run-overs, he spots the street he was looking for and takes a sharp turn to the left coming to a stop face to face with a seedy Chinese restaurant.

It's like the place was frozen in time; Bulma is amazed, and secretly relived, that it looks the same as it did the last time she saw it: Red and gold lanterns hanging from a deep green retractable roof, chipped but still shinny white wooden arcades, tinted panelled windows and the imposing, slightly faded, painting of the legendary dragon Shen Long adorning the brick wall of the building that stretches on top.

Even old Roshi looks the same, rooted at the front of the restaurant, lounging in the impossibly low banquette: orange Hawaiian shirt hanging loosely from his thin frame matching the khaki shorts and the brown leather sandals he wears, round, red rimmed sunglasses obscuring his face, smoking pipe in one hand and a root walking stick supporting the other

Bulma gets off the bike, and while Vegeta busies himself parking it, takes a tentative step towards the old man; eyes cast down and worrying the straps of her duffel bag between her fingers. Not knowing how to exactly approach him, she settles for an awkward and entirely underwhelming hand-wave.

When Roshi doesn't acknowledge her, she feels her face fall; but it's not after he talks that her heart finds a new home right at the bottom of her stomach.

"Vegeta," he says. " If you insist on keep on riding that ancient crap, the least you can do is work on adjusting the carburettor, it sounds like a dying animal."

And it's not hat he is ignoring her; he really thinks that he is talking to Vegeta. The old man is not crazy; he is blind. And now that she looks closer, she can see it, hiding behind his patent glasses, the whitish scar tissue surrounding his eyes and fading away as it reaches his bushy moustache.

She is at a complete loose for words. When did it happen? How? Why? There are a thousand scenarios playing in her head, and she can't come up with none resulting in the once world's martial arts champion sustaining such a severe wound.

It's Vegeta's voice what brings her back to reality. "You are one to talk old cot; I still keep you around, don't I?" He tells him. "And you are getting more feeble than I though if you mistook me for the weakling standing before you."

The fact that now Roshi's sightless eyes are focused on her is the only reason she lets the comment about being a weakling slip by, too busy trying to shake the eerie feeling that even if he can't see her, he is able to look right into her shaking soul.

Not one to be good at bearing the silence for long, she plasters a slightly tremulous smile on her face and makes herself be known. "Hey" it's all she can muster, but it looks like it's enough. After a brief pause, Roshi's face breaks into a smile and in a surprisingly bout of energy he launches himself at her.

"Bulma!" Roshi exclaims, befuddlement and joy mixing in his voice as he embraces her. "You are back! You are back!" He keeps on saying, voice getting louder and louder.

It's precisely because of this commotion that everyone inside the restaurant hurries outside, and all of the sudden, looking over the top of Roshi's shoulder, Bulma is faced with the sight of four, equally shocked expressions.

The Son family is frozen at the entryway, and it takes the old pervert's ever wandering hands, and her resulting squeal followed by an unerring punch to the top of his bald head, to send them into action.

The first one to reach her is Chi-Chi, pushing the old man aside and enveloping in a bone-crushing hug; but soon enough the enormous frames of Goku, Raditz and Turles are sandwiching the two embracing women.

They warm welcome brings tears to her eyes, and she fights her hardest to keep them at bay. It's because of this, and probably because the four of them are plummeting her with questions too, that she fails to notice Vegeta's swift departure.

The sight of them all, embracing the woman and acting like she never left, makes his stomach churn uncomfortably. It's not that he was expecting them to act scornfully towards her, after all, that was probably his role; but he can't help but feel envious at how easily they let go of the past. He can't be that forgiving, or that forgetful; it's not in his nature.

He jumps on his bike and before anyone can notice, he is speeding away. She will be safe with them, and he has a few loose ends that he needs to see to before he tells her or anyone else what's going on. He convinces himself that that is all there is to it, and that the idea of this all being just but a brief reunion it's not chilling him to the bone.

.

_Review? =)... Constructive Criticism is always welcomed too! _

_*Shamelessly self-advertising* If you liked this, check out _**_Spark of Blue_**_, _**_Drabbles from Mirai time_**_ and _**_Wishing Well _**_;) I could do with your opinion to improve my writing._

* * *

><p><strong>Preciousjade76:<strong> Thank you; I'm really feeling this fic so I'm quite sure I'll finish it. I'm really glad you are enjoying it and happy that I was able to transmit all that tension and feelings to you through my writing, and that you are waiting to hear about B/V 's past, don't worry, it'll be slow coming but you'll be getting clues with every chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I don't own DBZ, and sadly none of the characters from it are mine either.

**Warnings**: bad language, adult situations… heed the rating.

**Prompt:** Sloth.

**Summary**: No matter how far or how fast you run, the past always catches up to you.

**Dangerous Liaisons**

_Chapter IV:_

Vegeta just ups and leaves, and suddenly, when all the shocked novelty of her return and the effusion of the hugs and greetings are gone; she is all alone, face to face with five people she can't say she knows anymore, and all the hurt and confusion that stretches between them.

But Chi-Chi is nothing if not pragmatic, and sensing her hesitance and the buoyant awkwardness of the men around her, she sets to disrupt the situation. "Come on in!" she exclaims warmly as she throws an arm around Bulma's shoulders and guides her into the restaurant. "I think I can hear a bottle of vodka calling our names."

The men seem happy enough with this plan of action, and Bulma is especially glad about it. She is in dire need of a stiff drink; and besides, having a glass in hand will give her something to do, something to hide behind; Old habits die hard, and hiding is all she's been doing for the past years.

They all sit while Chi-Chi jumps behind the bar and breaks the alcohol. The silence that reigns in those few seconds is uncomfortable; but once everybody's glasses are filled, Goku clears his throat and with his easygoing disposition manages to vanish the tension. "I drink to Bulma. I don't care how, and I don't care why, but she's back and that's all that matters." He raises his glass in the air and tips it to her, and soon, everyone is following in his footsteps. "To Bulma!" They say and drown their shots.

"To me." Bulma choruses meekly and tries to swallow though the lump in her throat. She doesn't have the heart to tell them that she is not really back to stay; that if it weren't for Vegeta forcefully dragging her back, she would have continued to live her life without them.

Conversation starts to flow, and it's like the old times again: Goku, goofy smile in place and hand scratching at the back of the mop of dark, unruly hair sticking in all directions at the top of his head, recalls a funny anecdote; Turles, Goku's carbon copy but with darker features, laughs at it, quick to poke fun at his twin; while Radditz, smirk in place, shakes his head at his younger brothers' antics, his long, brownish hair pulled into an impressive ponytail, following the movement of his head, and a glint shinning in his hazel eyes; Roshi, as always, doesn't miss an opportunity to add his two-cents of dirty jokes; and Chi-Chi, poised and dainty, like a dark haired-doe eyed porcelain doll, sips her drink with an indulgent smile playing at the corners of her red painted lips as the men kid around.

And all the while, Bulma smiles and laughs at all the right times, while the guilt sitting heavily at the bottom of her stomach threatens to swallow her whole. This people here are her family, and they are ready to forget and forgive if only to have her back.

She's never felt more like a backstabbing, cold-hearted bitch before.

But for a second, she imagines herself faltering in her resolve, and questions if she'll be able to leave a second time around. Then she remembers Vegeta, and all the reasons that made her run in the first place, and she bottles up all her feelings inside and drowns them with another shot of alcohol.

Forgetting it's far too dangerous; she learned her lesson about playing with fire the hard way, and even if she is sure she'll leave this whole mess a little bit singed, she is not ready to be burnt again. She's gotten good at practicing the art of denial; but that's back in another city, with sweet, gullible Yamcha, and those high society gooses, who couldn't care less about whom you are provided you have enough money to flaunt around; Here with these guys, who can easily see right through her bullshit and past all her barriers, she can't pretend; And she is not naïve enough as to think that after everything that happened, all the mistakes she made, things will ever be the same.

Even thou she can't say she is having a bad time, the influence of the vodka along with a deep weariness, product of the trip and the wide range of emotions rallying inside her, are really doing a number on her; She feels drained, and wants nothing more than to burry herself under a thick comforter and pretend everything is a nightmare.

She is debating on whether to get up or not, and how to go about doing it, when the decision is made for her. A toddler, shy of five years old she is sure, comes barging into the restaurant. There is no mistaking who his parents are; his face is all Goku and that horrible, horrible haircut is, without a doubt, all Chi-Chi.

He goes straight to Goku and jumps into his arms with the ease of someone who is well accustomed to the gesture. "Hi daddy!" he says loudly, full of youthful energy; and from the sanctuary of his father's lap, proceeds to happily greet everyone until his eyes come to rest on her, a little frown creasing between his eyebrows as he studies the strange lady sitting besides his uncle Turly.

Apparently she passes whichever toddler test he gave her, for a few seconds of concentrated staring after, he gives her a pearly white smile. "Hi blue lady!" He tells her waving a chubby fist in the air.

Everybody laughs at the cute way he greeted her, and she would have too, if it weren't because she is too busy fighting back the urge to be sick all over the place. The unexpected turn of events opens a new can of worms she is not ready to face yet, or ever.

Chi-Chi starts ranting about how gifted and precious her little bundle of joy is, full of motherly pride and love; and Bulma can feel herself getting paler and paler. Trying her best to conceal her uneasiness, she plasters a smile on her face and excuses herself to the bathroom. Once she gets there she is close to fainting, but a few deep breaths and a splash of cold water latter, she manages to keep her emotions in check and reign herself in.

When she gets back, she doesn't have to try too hard to convince them that she is spent; she really is. And so, it's not but a few moments latter that she finds herself facedown on the guestroom's bed, ready to sleep until the ache in her heart disappears.

But as the saying goes, there is no rest for the wicked, and not five minutes latter there's someone knocking on her door. With a heavy sight, she musters whichever strength she has left, and goes to answer it. "Radditz?"

"Hey… can I come in?" he asks her.

There's many ways their private conversation can go, and none of them are something she is looking forwards to, but maybe, the band-aid approach is the way to go. "Yeah, sure. This is your home after all," she answers him and steps aside, making room for his large frame to pass through the door.

"It was your home too. It still is if you want it to." Radditz shoots, his voice lacking the warmth his offering should have had, and pointing more to the reproach that it really is.

She is a little taken aback by his coldness and it shows in her eyes. Seeing it, he feels an answering tug at his heart and softens his voice. "Sorry", he apologises, hand running through his hair in typically nervous fashion. "I know this conversation is already going to be awkward enough without pointing to the pink elephant in the room."

"What are you talking about?"

"Cat," her old nickname rolls easily from his tongue, " Being here is the last thing you want right now, I'm not like my brothers, I don't buy for a second the "prodigal son" act."

"Okay," she concedes, not bothering to deny it, there's no use. "You've got me figured out. Now, what do you want?"

"Was it because of me?" He blurts out. The question has plagued him since the day she left, and he needs an answer.

She is about to reply when he cuts her off; apparently he needs more than an answer.

"I know I fucked up. I've had to look him in the eye ever since and pretend I didn't fuck his girlfriend. I had to watch him trash room after room, and pretend I didn't have a clue about why you were gone. So I want to know, was it because of me?"

His words make her think back to a night filled with hurt and self-loathing, a night solely dedicated to self-destroy. Radditz was just a means to an end, a way to seal her fate. She's regretted it ever since, not the decision per ser, but the fact that she was so twisted that she wanted to bring someone down with her too.

Like _him_, like Vegeta, he was a victim too.

.

_Review? =)... Constructive Criticism is always welcomed too! _

_*Shamelessly self-advertising* If you liked this, check out _**_Spark of Blue_**_, _**_Drabbles from Mirai time_**_ and _**_Wishing Well _**_;) I could do with your opinion to improve my writing._

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><p><strong>Preciousjade76: <strong>Thanks for the review. English is not my first language so sometimes I have a bit of a struggle when writing, mostly with punctuation marks and homophones. I'd love to find a beta to proofread my work, but I don't have the sightless clue as to how to go about finding one. Any suggestions?

**Lassador:** Lol, I hope this gives you some answers... and lot of more questions ;)


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I don't own DBZ, and sadly none of the characters from it are mine either.

**Warnings**: bad language, adult situations… heed the rating.

**Prompt:** Lust.

**Summary**: No matter how far or how fast you run, the past always catches up to you.

**Dangerous Liaisons**

_Chapter V:_

The conversation with Radditz is long a tedious, but in the end, she likes to believe, they part on good terms and with a firm resolution to keep that night in the past and away from Vegeta; there is no sense in ruining his relationship with Radditz because of a night of lust he wasn't even half aware for. Even if at the moment she had wanted to bring someone else down with her, she never told Vegeta any names.

Once Radditz is finally gone, she resumes her position facedown on the bed and despite her troubled thoughts, it's not long before she's asleep and reliving one vivid memory.

_Bulma was never one to be good at following orders, not even Vegeta's. She is as stubborn and they come, and she absolutely refuses to stay back as they go through such an important job. So, even if there is a voice at the back of her head telling her it's a bad idea, she goes to the warehouse anyway._

_It's the beginning of the end._

_Before she knows it, she is being shot at from three different directions. She manages to catch two right in the head and to wound the third one in the stomach, but misses the fourth who comes from behind her. The cold barrel of the gun digs into her left temple and an arm sneaks around her waist holding her firmly in place._

_She is lucky the man holding the gun is stupid enough as to think he can use her as leverage against her friends; he just doesn't know yet how accurate and deadly Vegeta's aim can be._

_Her life is in no immediate danger anymore, but her eyes widen in fear anyway when she realizes that Vegeta's distraction when saving her has left him open for an attack; and she is not the only one. One guy comes at him from the right, and even thou he gets one shot in; it's too late to avoid the collision, and Bulma is left to stare as both are propelled through a window and disappear from sight._

_Things go from bad to worse in a matter of seconds. They've lost the level floor, and with it the access to the entryways; and with Vegeta out of the picture and Goku down for the occasion, they are two men down to fight the rapidly increasing enemy fire._

_Radditz and Turles are unable to move from their spot, being as they are covering their fallen brother as Chi-Chi tries to stop the flowing of blood in his wounds. Bulma fires her gun and changes chargers as fast as humanly possibly, but she can hardly advance more than two steps at the time before being forced to take cover behind a pile of wooden planks; Not far away Ten Shin Han and Krillin are entrenched under a metal alcove and firing back to back for everything they are worth, but for every guy they shot down, two seem to sprout from thin air._

_They are slowly loosing ground and it's only a matter of time until they are either completely surrounded or out of ammo._

_A series of explosions followed by screams of pain and the crackling of fire can be heard in the distance, and they are getting closer and closer. Suddenly, one is heard right under them and men are thrown through the air, flames and debris following behind them. The constant fire ceases, most of the members of the warehouse gang are either dead or trying to escape the flames, but a few of them remain, giving fight and not willing to lose nor run._

_Two figures emerge from between the flames, guns blazing. Vegeta is a little worse for wear, but it looks like the fall didn't take much out of him. Next to him, Nappa, the big, old brute, looks like a figure right out of hell: his big frame completely covered in blood and grime, small, beady eyes slanted hatefully and mouth curved into a vicious snarl. His gun runs out of ammo and he doesn't miss a second before he is launching a grenade towards the next group of firing men. There is a reason why he has always been made to drive the exit car and nothing more; he is all brawn and no brain. The grenade does more than to blow the men up, it damages one of the warehouse's foundations, and the entire place shakes._

_In the commotion Bulma loses her footing and stumbles forwards; Devoid of shelter and disoriented, she can't do a thing to avoid being shot square in the chest. Her bulletproof vest saves her this time, but the force behind the shot sends her reeling through the air and she crashes into a wall and tumbles unconscious to the floor. When she wakes up, flames are swallowing the whole place and Krillin is half carrying, half dragging her through it, his short frame making it harder for him to mobilise her. Goku and Chi-Chi are nowhere to be seen; Ten Shin Han, Radditz, Turles and Vegeta are still stuck in a shooting match and covering for their escape; and Nappa, Nappa lies dead, facedown in a pool of his own blood, several bullet holes scattered through his back and a resolute one in the middle of the back of his bald head._

_They make it outside and Chi-Chi is waiting for them with the engine running and Goku slumped in the passenger side. It's a painfully long couple of minutes latter that Radditz, Turles and Vegeta come rushing through the warehouse's back doors and jump into the van, but Bulma is too shocked to notice Ten Shin Han never made it back. She can faintly hear Vegeta's gruff voice addressing her and panicky asking her where was she wounded; but she can't find the voice to answer him that she wasn't shot; instead, she can't tear her gaze away from the blood covering her and the implications that it carries._

Bulma wakes up with Vegeta's shouts still ringing in her ears, and it takes her a while to realize that reality has mixed with her dream. Vegeta is back, and apparently really pissed about something.

She shakes the dream away at best she can, and goes running towards the sound of angry voices and crashing bottles. When she gets there, Vegeta is throwing another tumbler across the room and muttering about whores and someone being led by his dick; and the gang is there, simply watching him throw his temper tantrum in appalled silence. Judging by Goku's recently developed black eye, she figures he tried to stop him and didn't fare well. And if Goku is not willing to approach Vegeta again, then no one is; that's it, no one except for her.

"Vegeta, what the hell?" she yells at him. "What the fuck in wrong with you? Stop smashing everything around!"

He turns around and narrows his eyes at her, defiantly picking a random bottle from the bar's shelve and breaking it on the bar's ledge. "Do you really want to know what's wrong whit me?" He snarls at her. "Everything is wrong with me! I could make you a goddamn list if you want me to, and you, and many of the fools here would be included; but at this very moment, Tarble is what's at the top of it."

Ignoring his outburst, the name of his younger brother peaks her curiosity; the last thing she knew, he was enrolled at the MIT and Vegeta was doing a formidable good job at keeping him away from their kind of lifestyle.

"Tarble?" she parrots. "What's wrong with him?"

Vegeta seems to deflate with the question, as if after expelling all the raw rage he had inside, the weight of whatever is happening is too much for him to bear. "He is the reason I went looking for you." He confides to her, to everybody. "I had my suspicions at first, but now it's fucking confirmed. He's planning a hit with the Colds."

.

_Review? =)... Constructive Criticism is always welcomed too! _

_*Shamelessly self-advertising* If you liked this, check out _**_Spark of Blue_**_, _**_Drabbles from Mirai time_**_ and _**_Wishing Well _**_;) I could do with your opinion to improve my writing._

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><p><strong>Preciousjade76, Lassador: <strong>Thanks for reviewing!


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I don't own DBZ, and sadly none of the characters from it are mine either.

**Warnings**: bad language, adult situations… heed the rating.

**Prompt:** Glutonny.

**Summary**: No matter how far or how fast you run, the past always catches up to you.

**Dangerous Liaisons**

_Chapter VI:_

Everyone is rendered silent by Vegeta's words; the implications of what he just said too big and terrifying to get a real grasp on. The Colds are simply put, the mob without all the honour codes; a bunch of dangerously deranged fellows with a penchant for blood and causing mayhem, at the service of the most power hungry and vile family there is. Police and politicians alike are into The Colds' pockets, and are quick to turn a blind eye, or even lend a helping hand; unconcerned by the crimson that baths theirs streets. Frieza, pale, sickly and deceptively well mannered is the youngest of the Colds' sons, and is the real mastermind behind all their operations; disguising as businesses a perversion that runs deep to his core. And Tarble is just a young boy, sweet and innocent, with a bright head on top of his petite shoulders and a brighter future ahead of him.

It doesn't make any sense.

As it is, Roshi is the first one to voice what's been going through everybody's minds. "Why would Tarble ever associate with The Colds?" He asks, their very name leaving a nasty aftertaste in his mouth and his incredulity palpable in his voice.

Vegeta's right eyebrow twitches and Bulma knows he is about ready to explode into another destructive tirade. His relationship with his brother has been strained from the beginning, and often times, it's been a love-hate kind of one. Vegeta would never admit to it, but he is deeply jealous, and a bit resentful, of his younger brother; he has had all the advantages in life and none of the hardships that come with it. And as if that wasn't enough, Tarble is the one to always get a free pass when Vegeta is left to pay every time, with no exceptions and not an ounce of mercy; That's not to say Vegeta doesn't love him; Bulma is sure he would give his life for Tarble in a heartbeat and without a second though.

He hates it, but he isn't able to avoid the sting at Roshi's, and everybody's else, reluctance to believe that the nice, fucking-perfect, princeling would even come close to such a revolting association; that's to be expected from the Vegetas of the world, not the Tarbles.

"Because he's been brainwashed by some whore and has lost any and all ability he had to think with his head and not his dick." He growls the words at them and avoids eye contact.

Goku must be a glutton for punishment, for everyone knows not to approach Vegeta when "_the vein_" is throbbing at his temple; even she is wary of it. So it comes as no surprise that when he goes to put a friendly arm around him and accompanies it with a "Don't worry man, I'm sure it's not what you think." Vegeta lashes out. And he would have given him another shiner to complement the one he already had if it wasn't for Radditz stepping between them.

"Whoa Vegeta, calm down!" He exclaims, rising an arm in a soothing motion. He is well aware of how anything related to The Colds affects Vegeta; it's the same way for himself. Many years have passed, but for him, for Vegeta and for Turles, the memories, the never healing wounds and the scars, are an ever-present reminder of the time they served under the sick bastards. Their desertion was a thorn at the Colds' sides; Frieza's particularly. And he knows better than Goku; this is neither an equivocation nor a coincidence, this is them coming back to set an old score, and targeting where they know it will hurt the most. "Just try and tell us the whole story." He tells him, wanting to get the details sorted out so they can start planning a course of action.

"Yeah," Chi-Chi chimes in. "The last thing we knew, he was busy with the Uni and far away from this world."

"I even drove him to school a couple of months ago," Turles adds, "and no offence Vegeta, but Tarble is kind of a wimp. Once, before you kicked my ass for doing so, I tried to teach him how to a fire a gun and he almost broke his wrist!"

"Not everything is about guns and brawn guys." Bulma finally decides to speak; some of the missing pieces of the puzzle falling in place. "Give the boy a computer and he can do anything he sets his mind to."

Vegeta's eyes clash with hers at the sound of her voice, and he gives her an almost imperceptible nod; not even phased that she caught up so quickly. "He is the best hacker there is, second only to…"

"Me." Bulma finishes his sentence. She remembers nights on end; she and little Tarble lounging lazily in their living room couch, cheesy movies playing in the background, notebooks on and junk food scattered all around, while Vegeta was in the backyard training or out on a job. And entertaining themselves by competing with each other over who was the fastest to break into the Electric Central's computer and make the whole city lose power; Or driving their neighbour, the uptight and unpleasant Mr. Rogers, crazy, by turning all his electrical equipments on and off throughout the whole night.

If she was feeling guilty before, now she has reached a whole new level, and is sure there will be a special place in hell waiting for her when the times comes; but nevertheless, it helps her to get into the mindset necessary if they are going to go against the Colds: She is decided to do everything she can to help, and this time, no matter how tough or how painful things get, she won't run away.

"All right," Roshi regains control of the conversation. "We know the why, but we don't have the how. Tarble is a smart kid, he knows better than to do something like that."

"It always comes down to a woman, doesn't it?" Vegeta answers gruffly, breaking out of the eye contact he had inadvertently maintained with Bulma and scowling at nothing in particular. "He met a bitch and she filled him with Meth and Sex, and once she had him worked how she wanted, she convinced him that it would be badass and cool for him to work with the Colds; The fool lapped it all up."

Vegeta is not a man of words, he much prefers action; and playing twenty questions with them it's getting him a little on edge. But he needs to vent, and so, he keeps on talking. "I noticed him acting weird and I figured it had to do with Krillin, but then I saw her, and I recognized her instantly; it was 18."

Bulma frowns deeply at the mention of _that _name, and can slowly feel herself gaining temperature. She can't help it when it comes to _her_, she loses all sense and reason, and all her natural instincts scream at her to take those strands of bleached blond hair of hers, and pull until her pretty crystal eyes pop out of their sockets. Now, thinking about her with Tarble is making her stomach turn, but not as much as the notion of Vegeta chancing paths with her does.

"And why didn't you off her when you had the chance?" Bulma asks him, coming close to growling the words; and he can swear he can see steam coming out of her eardrums.

"I didn't off her 'cause I need her to get back inside," he answers curtly.

"_Oh hell no! Over my dead body,"_ its all Bulma can think about.

.

_Review? =)... Constructive Criticism is always welcomed too! _

_*Shamelessly self-advertising* If you liked this, check out _**_Spark of Blue_**_, _**_Drabbles from Mirai time_**_ and _**_Wishing Well _**_;) I could do with your opinion to improve my writing._

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><p><strong>Preciousjade76: <strong>Thanks for reviewing! I'm really glad you liked the fight scene, I guess watching Tarantino with the BF payed out in the end.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I don't own DBZ, and sadly none of the characters from it are mine either.

**Warnings**: bad language, adult situations… heed the rating.

**Prompt:** Greed.

**Summary**: No matter how far or how fast you run, the past always catches up to you.

**Dangerous Liaisons**

_Chapter VII:_

Vegeta starts talking about his plans, artfully avoiding Bulma's ever darkening visage; He will do what he has to, and frankly, even if he is not looking forwards to doing 18 again, and he derives some kind of twisted pleasure from seeing her seething because of it, who he fucks is none of her business; she made sure of it.

He can be a leader when he has to, and he tolerates the gang of fools he lives and sometimes works with, but if there is something life has taught him in spades, it's that, at the end, it's every man for himself; it's only a matter of time before someone's interests clash with your own and you find yourself completely fucked over. And he's got no intentions of putting that notion to the test when his brother's life is on the line.

It's not that he doesn't trust them, he does, as far as Vegeta can trust someone else anyway; but he realizes the magnitude of what he would be asking for, and at the bottom of it all, he doesn't know if they will be willing to pull through for him. He knows his character is full of flaws, and hell, not even the one person who was supposed to understand him stayed for long. If he were in their position, he wouldn't help himself. It's better if he goes on his own, they will be more useful to him from the outside.

Bulma listens and fumes in silence. She catches the small glint of satisfaction in his eyes every time he says the bitch's name and she is unable to stop herself from grinding her teeth in anger; but contrary to popular belief, she is not that self-absorbed as to believe everything has to do with her. When he says he is going back to the man who made his life a living hell and to the woman who helped him, he is deadly serious.

If he thinks for one second that he can go and drag her back, and then pull some kind of macho suicide mission, he has another thing coming. "Excuse us!" she tells everybody and promptly strides to his side, grabbing him by the lapels of his leather jacket and pulling him up from the barstool he was slumped on.

No one questions her actions; Bulma and Vegeta's tempers are a force to be reckoned with on their own, and when together they are known to reach nuclear capacities. If there has to be a throw down between them, it better be somewhere secluded, that can contain the explosion, and that will be easier to clean up afterwards.

Before he knows it, Vegeta is being pushed inside her guestroom, the door locking resolutely shut behind them. And Bulma is looking scarier than ever; he even takes an involuntary step back at the sight.

She is so angry, she is struggling to form words, and so, she makes sure to glare at him extra harder in the meantime. "I can't believe you," she finally manages to get out, "You have to be the biggest idiot in the whole world. You are still made of flesh and blood, Vegeta, and you will be of no use to anyone if you are dead!"

"I know that me dying would make your world a little more pleasant to live in; but I'm not planning on watching daisies grow from under anytime soon."

"If I wanted you dead, you jerk, I would have already shot you several times over. You were lucky I didn't have my shovel and my .45 when you stopped by yesterday, otherwise you would've been long gone." She throws at him; it's twisted and unhealthy, and what she really means to say by it is: _please don't die_. But she can't say it out loud, that's not how things work between them.

"You are the lucky one, body bags aren't big enough to hide your fat ass." He answers in kind. _"I already got you involved in this, there is no sense in throwing you into the fire line,"_ it's what goes unsaid.

"Yes, well, they can't hide your big, pointy head either. It's so full of hot air that it's a wonder you don't go soaring into the air." She is quick to retaliate. "You are deluding yourself if you think your little plan is going to work. She will double cross you in a heartbeat."

"Don't worry kitten, I've got plenty of experience handling double crossing bitches, both in and out of bed."

"Fuck you Vegeta!" she yells at him, the words sting but she doesn't let them get her out of focus. "Stop deflecting and talk to me. You are the one who came looking for my help."

"I need your help in keeping track of Tarble's activity and making him disappear once I've got him, nothing more." He tells her coldly. "You are just a means to an end, princess. Do not forget you no longer belong here." He is been trying his hardest to do so, but he can't.

"I choose where I do or don't belong to; you are not the fucking king of the Universe. And as of right now, I belong here. I might have left _you_, but they are still my family."

"Don't pretend you care!" He explodes at her. "Where were you when Chi-Chi was bleeding to death in the delivery room as her son fought for his life and Goku looked about ready to lose his mind? Huh? Where were you when Roshi was ambushed by Tao Pai Pai's boys and left for dead in ditch, half his face burned away? Or when Krillin was being stabbed twenty-fucking-times in the stomach?"

She is rendered silent and he can't seem to stop. "Where the fuck where you when my brother needed someone to talk to about the world YOU introduced him to? Or when the police almost got mine and Turles' asses thrown into jail? I'll tell you where you were! You weren't here! You were back in you fancy apartment, drinking French champagne and fucking a worthless, blue collared, piece of shit. Covered to you ears in denial and trying you're hardest to forget we ever existed."

His chest heaves up and down harshly with every breath he takes, his eyes are ablaze and his mouth curled into a feral snarl; He looks like some wild animal, and for the second time in her life, Bulma is scared of him.

There is hate propelling those words towards her, and it wounds her deeply. Back in the day she did everything she could to get him to hate her, but now, when his contempt for her is staring so blatantly at her, she doesn't know if she can handle it.

Even if he is rightfully indignant and furious with her, Vegeta despises the flickers of fear and hurt he can see in her eyes. No matter how hard he tries, he can't bring himself to hate her; he can't even bring himself to not to care. But it's better if she believes he does.

Squaring his shoulders and giving her a blank stare, he pushes her gently away from the door where she is frozen in place, and unlocks it. "Stop pretending that you care, you're not fooling anyone. Leave the planning to those of us who really give a damn about succeeding." He growls at her on his way out of the room, and commits a terribly mistake; no one tells Bulma what to do.

He is not even one foot into his room when Bulma comes barrelling in and pushes him forwards; She is absolutely livid.

"You listen here, and you listen well you bastard," she snarls at him, one fine manicured nail digging into his chest. "I might have whined and put up a fight, but you and me both know, that there's no way I would be here if I didn't want to. So, stop pushing me away and cut the whole wounded act. Monsters don't have hearts."

"You are right, they don't, and that's why your little speech doesn't mean a thing to me. That's why you don't mean a thing to me. I stay by what I said, now, get the fuck away from my room!"

"Why does it always have to be this way with you?" Bulma finally loses it. "It's always all or nothing. Why are you so goddamn greedy? You can't get what you want and so you go and throw everything away. I'm fucking sorry I left, but I'm here now. Why can't that be enough?"

"Because you are leaving again when all is said and done with!" He yells back at her, gripping her shoulders and pinning her to his desk. "It'll never be enough!"

"What do you care? You hate me," she tells him matching his intensity and struggling wildly against his grip.

He doesn't have time to answer. Their rough movements send a vase crashing to the floor with a deafening thud, and a small, black box comes tumbling out of it, taking out all the air in the room.

.

_Review? =)... Constructive Criticism is always welcomed too! _

_*Shamelessly self-advertising* If you liked this, check out _**_Spark of Blue_**_, _**_Drabbles from Mirai time_**_ and _**_Wishing Well _**_;) I could do with your opinion to improve my writing._

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><p><strong>Preciousjade76: <strong>There's been some clues in the previous chapters about what transpired between them, and the next one delves more into their past. Some things will be kept in suspense until later in the story, but I promise there'll be enough info to tie you up until then ;). Thanks for the review!


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I don't own DBZ, and sadly none of the characters from it are mine either.

**Warnings**: bad language, adult situations… heed the rating.

**Prompt:** Wink.

**Summary**: No matter how far or how fast you run, the past always catches up to you.

**Dangerous Liaisons**

_Chapter VIII:_

_Every shuffle of her feet on the sidewalk feels like one step closer to the end. She never imagined she would be walking the green line in the middle of a crowded street, but as it is, the blurred faces of the anonymous passers-by serve as witnesses to her walk of shame, and staring right back at her, reflected in a shinny window display, are the blue eyes of her executioner._

_She made her decision and sealed it within cheap cotton sheets; the time to pay the penance has come. She took care to set her bridges on fire, and all that is left for her now is to burn as well; so she douses herself in gasoline and goes meet the only one capable of lighting the match. _

_Despite all of her resolve, once she reaches her destination, she hesitates at the threshold; hand frozen over the doorknob and heart throbbing wildly in her chest, scared of what she has to do once she crosses the door. But the memory of an unmarked tomb and everything that came after flashes through her mind, and she steels her spine and forces herself to push forwards._

_What she finds inside is not what she was expecting; it's much, much worse. _

_A bottle of Dom sits chilling in a chromed bucket of ice, two champagne flutes beside it, and a platter filled with truffles not far away. The floor is covered in rose petals, red, white and yellow, and the room is alight by the shine of a dozen candles; Their flickering light playing with the contours of the man sitting on the living room couch, caressing his cheekbones and highlighting the softness rarely seen in his eyes._

_The scene is full of the romanticism he so despises but that she can't help but be a sucker for. _

_Things had been rocky between them as of late, a whirlwind of emotions affecting them both since what happened at the warehouse. And that's precisely why he is doing this; for once, he will avoid the voice that compels him to take everything as a game of cat and mouse, forever aiming for the guarded advantage, and will put himself in the line for her; always her. _

_He knows what to do to fix everything; he holds the key to it safely tucked inside his pocket. It's what she had so desperately been asking for and he had been too stubborn to give. _

_She can't find her voice and just stands there, gaping at him like a fish out of water. Her eyes sweep over every detail in the room, and she can feel them filling with tears she promised herself she wouldn't shed. He starts talking, and it's everything she's ever wanted to hear. She never would have thought that happiness could hurt that much, but the pain in her chest feels worse than dying._

_Vegeta is so caught up in the moment, that for the first time ever, he fails at reading her; mistaking her shortness of breath for surprise and the single tear rolling down her face as one of a different nature altogether. And so, unaware of the disaster that's about to come, he goes on. He approaches her, until they are standing practically nose to nose, so close he can feel the warmth of her breath fanning across his face and the rapid beating of her heart against his chest, and pushes and open box between them. A beautiful vintage blue sapphire and diamonds platinum ring carefully nestled inside. _

_He doesn't get on one knee, and his "Marry me" is more a demand than a question. But the look in his eyes when he gazes at her makes everything perfect; too bad her agonizing sobs are all the answer he gets. _

The memory flashes in both of their minds and he steps away from her as if burned. She doesn't notice thou; she is completely fixated on the box and all the possible reasons as to why he still has it. She never thought in a million years that she would be seeing it again, and before she knows it, she is bending down to pick it up with tremulous hands and getting cut with a shard of broken glass.

He hears her gasp of pain and turns back to face her again, right on time to catch the first scarlet drops running down her finger. The word fitting crosses his mind; she has no right to touch it. And as he is watching her suck on her finger, trying to stop the haemorrhaging, her eyes suddenly leave the box and rest on his. He doesn't like what he sees there; the situation is uncomfortable enough as it is without the need to add the plethora of confusing emotions she is conveying. And because he needs her to stop looking at him that way, and an excuse to get her away from the misbegotten piece of jewellery, he skirts around the dross and taking her by the elbow, drags her out to the hallway and towards the bathroom.

They remain in silence the whole time, still reeling from the abrupt drop in their last argument and the thoughts that consume them. Vegeta does his best to push away all memories of that day out of his mind as he gently douses her bloody hand under the faucet. He can't allow this to be about them; there will always be a ton-load of unsaid things and unresolved miseries, but he can't dwell on them when he should be focusing on Tarble. It doesn't matter that all he's ever wanted since he saw her again was to shake her and demand she tell him everything she's been denying him. He is not a patient man, never was and never will, but even if he won't ever admit it, or consciously realize it, he is afraid of getting an answer; afraid that all this time he's been deluding himself into thinking there was something more, and that the reason for her desertion was simply that he wasn't enough. The image of a scar faced man with an arm thrown around her and winking to the camera, sitting on a mantelpiece back in a world that will never be his, only serves to cement those hidden fears of inferiority.

Bulma for her part is at an utter lose; everything is so uncertain that she feels like screaming. She's spent many a night tossing and turning in bed regretting _everything, _and taking a small and twisted comfort in the fact that he hated her; It was the only thing preventing her from returning and begging him to forgive her and take her back, the only thing helping her keep on making the right choice. And now, he goes and throws it all away; he was supposed to hate her, to forget her and be okay. She is afraid to believe that he still loves her, scared that she loves him too, that she never stopped, and absolutely petrified that the truth will come out and ruin them both.

_._

_Review? =)... Constructive Criticism is always welcomed too! _

_*Shamelessly self-advertising* If you liked this, check out _**_Spark of Blue_**_, _**_Drabbles from Mirai time_**_ and _**_Wishing Well _**_;) I could do with your opinion to improve my writing._

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><p><strong>Preciousjade76: <strong>Lol I cannot help myself ! Thanks for the review... I'm out of prompts at the lj community, so it may be a little while until the next update... unless... considering you are the only one reviewing this... do you want to give me one?


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** I don't own DBZ, and sadly none of the characters from it are mine either.

**Warnings**: bad language, adult situations… heed the rating.

**Summary**: No matter how far or how fast you run, the past always catches up to you.

**Dangerous Liaisons**

_Chapter IX:_

By the time the band-aid is on Bulma's finger, their masks are back in place and the small bathroom is filled with their icy demeanours. It's always like this with them; rarely is there ever one clear winner in their fights, and they end up feeling raw and vulnerable, resorting to shutting each other out. But Bulma is not as good as him when it comes to it, she never was, and despite the fact that she feels like she said too much, when he turns around to leave she finds herself reaching out to keep him in place.

The light touch on his forearm is enough to freeze him in his tracks; shoulders tense and skin tingling. He barely turns his head over his shoulder to acknowledge her, but finds himself going the whole way when he catches the expression on her face: It's dead serious, and her eyes are aflame with determination; She is on a mission, and there is no ignoring her when she is like that.

Relieved that she has his attention, Bulma is decided to get all the answers she needs. She has a plan, and she is going to abide to it; there is no room for sentimentality or revisiting the past. She will help Tarble and be off on her merry way, and to do so she needs information; information she is sure Vegeta has but is not giving away.

She leans against the bathtub and levels him with her best glare. "I'm in," she tells him, resuming their previous argument before all their baggage got in the way, and leaving no room for discussion or second-guessing. "There is something you are not telling us, and I want to know what it is."

"I don't know what you are talking about." He replies, adopting a similar position to hers; back against the door and arms crossed over his chest.

"Don't act coy Vegeta, it doesn't suit you."

"I already said all you needed to hear, woman. The rest is my business and mine alone."

She frowns at him, already tired of his little speech. "Now it's my business too, you made it so when you interrupted my life to drag me back here to help you." She says; she won't let him forget it. "Your plan is a suicide mission Vegeta, we both know it."

"You don't know anything," he growls at her, already feeling caged and annoyed by her words; She is the only one capable of cornering him and making him feel like a prey.

"Bullshit," she spits, feeding on his restlessness. She will not play dumb for his benefit, no when she knows it'll end bloody. "If you go back, you won't be returning, he won't let you. You know he will sooner kill you than have you slip away again."

She is not telling him anything new; he has plenty of experience with Frieza's morbid obsession with himself, and he is well aware that the chances of surviving his mission, not matter how well planned, are slim to none. But the powers at play are insurmountable, and there is no other choice; He hates her a little for making him say it out loud. " There is no other choice!"

"Why?" She keeps on prodding him.

"Because my brother won't survive the hit they are planning, Bulma," he explodes at her. "The operation is air-tight. The only way for me to get access to him is from the inside."

The edge of desperation is his voice makes her shudder in her place. It blows away all her bravado and her incisiveness; for the first time since she got there, she thinks they might be really in over their heads. Her voice is low and unsure when she asks, "What's going on?"

He sights and runs a hand through his coarse hair in an exasperated manner, resisting the urge to pace like an animal in the enclosed space. "They plan on robbing Enma Daio Sama."

That name alone is enough to stop her heart from beating. The Colds may be the overlords of the city, but Enma Daio Sama is the absolute ruler of the underworld. From his throne at the Helf casino, he controls every sordid deal that takes place in his jurisdiction, from street fighting, gambling and drugs to the stock market and medical care. The amount of money he manages on a daily basis is enough to feed several third world countries, but no one has ever been as audacious or as absolutely idiotic as to try and rob him. Not only is his casino under the most severe security there is and reinforced by his own personal army, but also, Enma himself is under the protection of the Kais; the four power heads of the global organization of crime.

"What?" Is all she manages to stutter, almost falling into the tub as all her limbs go limp in disarming horror. There has to be an equivocation; Frieza is one crazy motherfucker, but he is not suicidal.

"It's like you heard," he tells her soberly. "It's also the reason why Krillin is on life support. He was involved with the witch when she went about brainwashing my brother, and Frieza was scared that the little scorned lover would filter his plans."

"How did you find out?"

"Gure," he breathes the name, fighting off the images of the nightmarish scene he found her in just mere hours ago. "She was Tarble's girlfriend. She knew Krillin from her visits with Tarble to the restaurant, and she had seen pictures of him and 18. When she discovered my brother's infidelity, she went to Krillin thinking he needed to be made aware of the situation, and found him agonizing on his apartment's floor. He was coherent enough to speak, and told her everything he knew. She came looking for me after taking him to the hospital."

"Frieza has Tarble in a secret location, so if we go to Enma, he will send his boys and Tarble will end up targeted along the way. I can't allow him to go through the hit either, it's bound to fail and the end result will be the same. I've got just one chance to save my brother and it's in reaching him before he gets more involved." Vegeta confesses, finally unravelling the logic behind his plans.

"But," Bulma's protest is a knee jerk reaction, there is no error in his assessment of the situation, but she is an optimistic at heart and a plan where the outcome will be grim either way is not something she is comfortable with. "You'll be trading your life for his, with no guarantees," The idea sits heavily in her stomach.

He just gives her a look and turns to leave; there is nothing more to be said. "I made a promise," he tells her, pausing for a moment right after exiting the bathroom.

Bulma is left silent and rooted to her place, the amount of information to process keeps on piling and the web they find themselves tangled into keeps on getting more and more complicated. This is no crazy adventure or a job with a high risk of landing them all in jail, this is a matter of life and death, and the odds are not in their favour, not at all.

_._

_Review? =)... Constructive Criticism is always welcomed too! _

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><p><strong>SniperSnake:<strong> Thank you so much! Both for taking the time to review even when you were feeling lazy about it, and for adding the story to your favourites. Your review flattered me beyond words, I apologize for the mistakes, English is not my first language and I don't have a clue about how to find a beta reader. I'm really happy you could enjoy it despite that and I hope that continues to be so. I'll finish this for sure, so buckle up for lots of action to come. ;) I'm looking forwards to hearing you opinions about this again, please don't be shy to tell me what you think about it!

**Preciousjade76:** Thank you for your constant feedback! Don't worry; by the end there'll be plenty of lemons ;). And yes, Bulma did a number on him, but nothing is without reason!.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** I don't own DBZ, and sadly none of the characters from it are mine either.

**Warnings**: bad language, adult situations… heed the rating.

**Prompt:** Touch.

**Summary**: No matter how far or how fast you run, the past always catches up to you.

**Special thanks to Erica for being awesome and a great beta. **

**Dangerous Liaisons**

_Chapter X:_

Vegeta leaves Bulma with a new force pushing him forward. Now that he knows someone else has all the vital pieces too, there's no time to waste; the image of Gure, burnt and disfigured, is proof that Frieza is being thorough while cleaning up in his own special way. It's only a matter of time before the loose ends have him knocking at their door. Just the thought alone of Frieza and his goons anywhere near the restaurant is enough to have him growling at nothing in particular and by the time he reaches his room, he has managed to work himself into quite a rage.

The door closes behind him with a bang. Sidestepping the mess on the floor, he takes his jacket off with unnecessary force, sending it flying through the room to fall randomly onto a lamp. The armpit holster is the next to receive his lashing out, missing the bed by a few inches and landing on the floor; the butt of his Berretta clanging resolutely against it and cracking irreparably, but he doesn't care. He is set on getting to his closet and gearing up to leave, the call to fight has awoken in him and there will be no stopping until its bloodlust is sated.

Discarding his wife beater to the side, he throws the closet doors open and crouches in front of them, muscles rippling in agitation, as he reaches for the chest at the very back, hidden inside under random boxes and clothes. It's not until he has it before him that he finally slows down, the family crest carved in blood red at the top of it, making him pause as always. It's a little reminder of everything he once was and everything he should have been; just another reason to add fire to the burning hatred he has for the Colds.

Tracing the outlines of the symbol, a kind of fractured anchor with stocks forming a V and a straight arrow down the centre, completed by a shortened shank divided in two, separate from the crown and flukes, he is face to face with the core reason that has him diving right into what Bulma, and everyone else, has dubbed as a suicide mission.

He is loyal, maybe to a fault, to those few he cares about, and he has a promise to uphold where his brother is concerned. But make no mistake, he is no hero, and even less a martyr; the truth of the matter is that things with Frieza go deeper than that. He has a score to settle and a question to answer. Since that day when his father decided that at the tender age of thirteen he was old enough to work alongside him for the Colds, then went and got himself and most of his men killed, leaving Vegeta and the few remaining members of the Saiyan organization under the control of a full-fledged psychopath, he has been biding his time. Waiting patiently until he could have his revenge.

He let the opportunity slip once and it came back to bite him in the ass; he won't do it again, this time it's all or nothing, freedom or death.

Unlocking the chest, he takes a black and grey bulletproof padded shirt from it and puts it on, strapping a cross-draw SpecGear Truss holster on top along with his chromed Desert Eagle .50 and a few extra chargers. His old Glock G26 goes into his left boot and a Ralph DDR pocketknife into his right. All that's missing is the little medallion in the shape of his crest, chipped and stained with his father's blood. Once he has it around his neck, he throws a red and black biker jacket on and he's ready to go.

He grabs a hefty wad of cash from his safe and is about to leave, when the black box laying glaringly on the floor makes him stop. He bends down and picks it up, rolling it in his hands for a moment before throwing it unceremoniously into the trash. He was a fool to keep it, for he should have known better; men without a future can't hold onto diamond-encrusted hope and what- ifs.

Closing the door behind him, he goes down to the bar, unsurprised to find that Turles and Raditz are the only ones left there, silently nursing a couple of beers in the dark. Goku and Chi-Chi are probably taking Gohan to stay with his grandfather; Roshi is surely back at his usual spot meditating about everything, and Bulma… he can't presume to know anymore when it comes to her.

"Leaving so soon?" Turles' voice intercepts him on his way out. "I didn't know you were so eager to die."

He is pissed, Vegeta can see that clearly. The fact that he is leaving all of them out of the loop hasn't set well with him. Despite their many differences, and the fact that their personalities clash more often than not, their history binds them together, and Frieza is a sore spot for him too.

"So little faith in me, Turles. You wound me," he answers him, leaning for a moment against the bar, arms crossed against his chest and head tilted to a side in mocking fashion. Raditz sends a warning glance his way, but he ignores it; he knows what he is doing.

"You are being stupid, careless," Turles tells him seriously, not appreciating his light-headedness at all. "And you are going to bite more than you can chew."

"Don't worry, I have a big mouth."

"Screw you Vegeta!" He yells slamming his bottle of beer on the bar, having no patience for Vegeta's games. "This is Frieza we are talking about, and you stand there making cheeky comments? Did you forget what he is capable of, what he did to us?"

"What he did to _us_?" Vegeta parrots, seizing the opportunity to push him away. "If my memory doesn't fail me, you had a great time being a carjacker, playing the leader to those _Highway pirates, _roaming the country as you pleased, while _I _was the one that had to stay close to that freak and pay for all your mistakes and acts of rebellion."

Turles shakes his head from side to side, a bitter smile adorning his face. "So that's how you want to play it? He asks him rhetorically, inwardly smarting from the low verbal blow, "Frieza is my problem too, and you can't go against him alone."

"So what?" Vegeta counters, "I should take you with me?"

"Yes, that's exactly what you should do."

"And why would I want a weakling like you with me? I already have a vest, I don't need you to catch the bullets, and that's all you will be good for."

"You think you are invincible, just like your father," Turles tells him darkly, "but we saved your ass more than once."

Vegeta is impervious to his words and just gives him a shrug and a smirk, making him fume. Seeing as he is not making any progress with him, and needing a reaction, Turles seeks his brother's support. "He is going to get himself and all of us killed, aren't you going to say anything?"

Raditz looks at him for a second, "No," he answers curtly and then goes back to his beer.

"Fine!" he says, standing up, his short fuse blown to smithereens. "Have it your way, just don't expect me to come to your rescue when everything explodes in your face." He spits at Vegeta before storming out of the restaurant.

They both watch him leave silently, and then Vegeta turns curious eyes to Raditz. He doesn't have to say a word before the other man is speaking. "I know you Vegeta," Raditz tells him evenly, "If you think there's no other way, there's no changing your mind. I trust your judgment."

He gives him a nod, a little surprised by his reaction, but then again, Raditz is nothing if not realistic. They relate that way and it's one of the principal reasons why he is the one in their little gang he is the closest with.

"There isn't," he reaffirms him, sitting for a second on the stool beside him and reaching for Turles' unfinished beer. "If the gang gets involved, the only thing they'll accomplish is to further the body count."

"So, we don't get our noses in your business, gotcha," Raditz says and gives him a pointed look, "Turles is out for the time being, just like you wanted, but I'm not sure it'll be so easy to deter the others."

"Goku and his harpy should be a walk in the park," Vegeta shrugs it off, thankful for the opening he provided and not wanting to miss the chance. "I need you to promise me something."

"Promise you what?"

"That you will keep the woman out of this. You are the only one I can trust with her." Vegeta tells him; finishing his beer and turning to leave, missing the way he flinches at his words.

Raditz is hard pressed to find a way to swallow the mouthful of beer around the knot in his throat, but manages to compose himself remarkably fast. "I will," he promises him.

"Good," Vegeta says and starts walking towards the door. There is no need to explain or to say goodbye, no time for unnecessary words between them.

He steps out to the street and wastes no time before climbing onto his bike. He has already kick started it when he feels the unmistakable burning sensation of someone's gaze on his back. Instinctively locating the source, his eyes clash with two azure pools staring at him sombrely from the top window, silently compelling him to stay. He pauses for just a second, then shakes off her spell and speeds away anyway.

The trip to 18's takes him over two hours, and the sun is already setting by the time he parks his bike behind her apartment building, a modern construction, grey and soulless just like its inquilines.

The steps creak under his weight as he climbs the stairs towards her home, gun drawn and senses on high alert. He reaches her door and is readying himself to kick it open, when the handle turns and saves him the effort, freezing him on the spot.

It's not an exuberant blonde what greets him; instead, he is met with a pair of red-rimmed eyes and purple-coated lips pulled into a predatory smile.

"Hello Vegeta, long time no see."

.

_Review? =)... Constructive Criticism is always welcomed too! _

_*Shamelessly self-advertising* If you liked this, check out _**_Spark of Blue_**_, _**_Drabbles from Mirai time_**_ and _**_Wishing Well _**_;) I could do with your opinion to improve my writing._

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><p><strong>Preciousjade76; Lassador: <strong>Thanks for the reviews !

**To all of you who subscribed and added this to favourites: **Sorry for always forgetting, but Thank you !


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** I don't own DBZ, and sadly none of the characters from it are mine either.

**Warnings**: bad language, adult situations… heed the rating.

**Prompt:** Lover.

**Summary**: No matter how far or how fast you run, the past always catches up to you.

**Dangerous Liaisons**

_Chapter XI:_

Since the moment the door opens, he knows he is fucked up. There he is, right over the threshold but wholly untouchable, dressed in an all white suit and shirt, purple vest and chequered bowtie. Goddamn purple shoes too. A mocking grin plastered on his pale face, and a dangerous glint dancing in his eyes.

In spite of the shock of seeing him, Vegeta doesn't miss a second; the sound of the hammer of the gun clicking into place the only response he gives. Not that it fazes Frieza in the slightest, he is sure that no matter how much the dark haired man is itching to take his life, he won't pull the trigger, he can't. And the feeling of empowerment he delivers from it is glorious and it shows, unguarded, in every pane of his face. The whole posturing is pointless, and they both know it. Still, Vegeta is not ready to admit defeat, and so, his hand is steady as he points the gun right into his smug face.

"You know, that's extremely rude," Frieza drawls in his overly feminine way, gesturing lazily to the gun, "but then again, I don't know why I expect anything different from such a lowly monkey."

He grits his teeth at the comeback of the old nickname and his finger flexes an inch over the trigger, but wills himself not to react. "Where is my brother?" He demands instead. There is no point in dancing around the subject; blunt is the only way from now on.

Frieza makes an exaggerated show of sighing, "No manners at all," he mutters and shakes his head at him. "Do come inside."

"Yes, please do," a new, deep, silky voice joins in from behind, accompanied by a dark, pig-like chuckle, and Vegeta curses inside his head for the tenth time in five seconds. Of course, Zarbon and Dodoria are never far when Frieza is in attendance. And his lack of focus has landed him with them breathing down his neck.

He is caught between a rock and a hard place, the exit is blocked and the answers are inside the apartment, even if it has become the lion's den. They are not making any sudden movements to disarm him, and a short-lived confrontation would only end in him being more exposed than he already is. So, he sheathes his gun and takes a careful step inside, Dodoria's impressive belly grazing his back as he makes his way in.

The door closes and Vegeta takes quick inventory of his surroundings. The apartment is small and grim, kitchen and living room sharing the same space, and a narrow hallway leading to two rooms and a bathroom. There is a big ornate window that takes much of the wall that's behind the couches and the tv set, opening to a miniscule balcony seven stories above the ground. There is another window back at the main room, but if he remembers correctly, it's barred.

Frieza sits in a throne-like armchair, something he is absolutely sure doesn't belong to 18's apartment. And Zarbon directs him, not too gently, to a double couch situated across from it. Before going to take his place at the bar adjacent from them, where Dodoria is already slumped over and lighting up a cigarette.

Silence reigns in an obvious power play. Vegeta and Frieza lock gazes and the henchmen's affected boredom hides a thinly veiled aggression. The tension is palpable, but the atmosphere breaks when the sound of high heels tapping over the linoleum floor can be heard approaching.

"Was that growling I heard?" 18's icy tones resound in the apartment. She makes a quick swipe of the room and her diamond shaped baby blues rest on Vegeta when she talks again, "I hope you have all your shots, that's expensive leather you are sitting on."

She has reached Frieza's side by the time she finishes her sentence. She is so intent on Vegeta that she misses the dangerous way the man's face darkens at the interruption of his clever ser up. And so, she is taken totally by surprise when instead of celebrating her witty jab, he backhands her, sending her crashing to the floor, a tiny rivulet of blood staining her upper lip.

Vegeta smirks and leans back in his seat, rejoicing in Frieza's slip in his control, and storing for latter use the flash of hatred that he saw in 18's eyes. "You always knew how to knock a bitch down," he quips, sending a nasty glare her way.

Frieza doesn't miss his enjoyment, and his eyes narrow just a tinny bit as a malevolent smirk stretches across his face. "You would know all about it," he deadpans and then turns his head at him extending a hand to 18, helping her to her feet and sitting her in his lap. He wipes the blood from her lips with one finger, and caresses her face making her arch into his touch like a kitten. It's just a gesture to placate her, lacking all warmth and affection. "Be a doll and bring me some wine," he orders her and pushes her lightly off of him.

18 composes herself rapidly, used by now to his mercurial moods. "Yes my lord," she purrs, the title he insist be used when addressing him rolling easily from her glib tongue.

She sashays towards the wine cabinets, the tiny deep purple cocktail dress she is wearing, ridding slightly over her ass. She cuts an interesting picture leaned over the kitchen isle, flanked by Zarbon and Dodoria's massive frames encased in their horrid, light blue and bubble pink suits. But Vegeta's attention is firmly set on the man before him.

Frieza waits until she is back with his beverage and takes a sip, watching Vegeta from over the rim of the glass. "So nice to have you back, we missed you," he says, his saccharine tone swiping down Vegeta's spine and making him shiver in disgust.

"Where is my brother?" Vegeta asks again through a clenched jaw, ignoring him.

"Oh yes, little Tarble, so innocent, so tender," Frieza smiles. "I believe he is following in his big brother's footsteps." He is full on beaming when he goes on, "I must admit I have a soft spot for him. Actually, he kind of reminds me of you."

The double intender in his words rings loudly in Vegeta's ear, and he doesn't realize he is standing up until a sharp pain assaults him. Zarbon, who saw his movement, was quick to reach him and jab him in the head with the butt of his gun. "Don't even think about it," he warns, relinquishing his spot at the bar in favour of being closer to his master.

The hit was hard enough to draw blood, and it trickles down Vegeta's forehead. Frieza offers him a white linen handkerchief in mock sympathy, and he bats it away, not bothering with cleaning himself up when the adrenaline is rushing through his veins. "Leave him out of it," he spits, "I'm here. There is no need to get him involved in your crazy plots."

"Crazy plots?" Frieza takes offence, his turn now to ignore him. "Whatever could you be talking about?"

"Going after Enma!" Vegeta explodes victim to Frieza's passive aggression, before the realization that he has said too much washes over him like a bucket of ice-cold water. That hit must have caused brain damage; he has just delivered himself, not to mention his whole gang, to Frieza on a silver platter.

The crime heir is silent for a moment, and then a boisterous laugh comes bubbling out of him. "My, my. How the birds sing these days," he enunciates, mirth still present in his tone. "And here I was thinking I had exterminated all of them."

Zarbon and Dodoria laugh in the background, and 18 is careful to hide her flinching. Vegeta is silent, running through his head every possibility, and coming to the conclusion that the best chance he's got is in redirecting his attention back to himself. "Nothing gets past me, not even your most idiotic schemes," he tells him, inflicting his words with as much haughtiness as he can, and levelling him with one of his superior glares.

But Frieza just laughs again, clearly dismissing his statement. "Good," he replies. "It'll save me the time to explain it to you."

"I don't give a fuck about your plans," Vegeta snarls at him. "I want my brother back, and I want him now."

"Silly, silly Vegeta," he chastises him, darkness creeping into his tone. "What makes you think you are in any position to be making demands?" He leans forwards in his seat invading his personal space, one bony finger stretching as if to touch his cheek, "Your little brother is mine, and so are you, pet."

This time Zarbon isn't quick enough to intercept him, and he lands a punch square into Frieza's face. In a second, he has both of his bodyguards on him. Zarbon goes for a cross hook to the jaw only to be met by a low hard right to the ribs, and Dodoria comes from behind and lands a square hit to his chin. He is rocked for a split second, but quickly crouches down and delivers a high kick to Dodoria's solar plexus, knocking the air out of him and sending him crashing into a bookcase.

18 stands aside, not getting involved at Frieza's orders, and watching with distaste as the brutes break havoc on her décor. Frieza is pissed all right, Vegeta's hit has left a tiny cut on his cheek, and now one of his favourite suites is ruined. But it's been a long time since the last time he felt so much excitement, and so, he lets his men get some fun before stepping in.

It's when Vegeta goes to drawn his gun, that Frieza decides it's time to remind the monkey that he is not only the pretty face of the company. He doesn't need a shooting attracting the attention of the police, even if half the department is in his pocket, his affairs at the moment are in need of the utmost discretion.

Zarbon and Dodoria are still caught in a back and forth of punches and kicks with Vegeta, who is rapidly loosing ground, when Frieza sees a momentary opening in Vegeta's stance and seizes the opportunity to acquaintance his left foot with his arm. Successfully preventing him from reaching for his gun, and dismissing his men from the fight.

Vegeta is thrown off balance for a second, but recovers with a low kick to Frieza's legs, trying to swipe them out of him. It doesn't work. The other man reads his movement easily, and taking advantage of his position, jabs an elbow to his head, following it quickly with a knee to his face.

Vegeta's vision swims and he barely misses Frieza's incoming right hook. He feigns a left to his face and instead goes for quick successive jabs to his ribs. Frieza manages to counter with his own jab to his kidneys, making him double over in pain, and swings a fast elbow to his spine, finishing with another meeting between his knee and Vegeta's face.

The fight is over just as suddenly as it began. Resulting in Frieza dusting off his suit and lamenting about how it's now ruined, and Vegeta slouched over on the floor. While Zarbon and Dodoria stand by awaiting new directions, guns drawn and pointing at his head.

Frieza shakes his head at them and signals to the couch. Vegeta's head is pounding, and his face is caked in blood, but he doesn't lose conscience as Zarbon and Dodoria carry him to it. It actually looks worse than what it feels. Considering he just got into a fight with Frieza, the fact that he is still lucid and has no broken bones is nothing short of a miracle.

18 throws a wet towel at him and he catches it on reflex. "All this time and you are still a dirty beast," she says turning her nose up at him.

"All this time and you are still a frigid bitch," he counters right back at her, spitting a mouthful of blood on her floor for good measure. He just had his ass handed over by Frieza and he is no mood to get into a bantering contest with her.

She is ready to swing another insult his way, but is interrupted by Frieza's voice. "Less talking and more whipping. You look more grotesque than what's usual, if that's even possible," he tells him.

Zarbon's claw applying pressure on his left shoulder prevents him from saying something that will surely earn him another round of beatings, and Frieza goes on uninterrupted. "Listen monkey, things are simple," he says prancing in front of him, the soles of his shoes crunching the broken glass beneath his feet. "In one week you will be fighting at the Helf casino, a box match against that overly advertised Mr. Satan. In which you will accidentally kill him, thus providing my men with a suitable distraction to do their jobs."

Vegeta doesn't bother to hold back a snort anymore. "That's all good and dandy," he cuts in, "but going against Enma is plain crazy. Even if you somehow manage to get the job done, you will have the four Kais on your ass."

"You shouldn't worry your not so pretty head so much," Frieza says, annoyed at being interrupted. "There is such a thing called leverage," he states patronizingly, "Which allows you to have control over someone else's actions. Case in point: little, precious Tarble."

"And what kind of leverage could you possibly have over the Kais?" Vegeta asks, trying to overlook the direct jab at him and focusing on extracting more information. Not that getting Frieza to talk about his plans is an impossible feat. He suffers from the same affection that seems to strike all of the tv villains nowadays; the need to gloat.

Frieza rolls his eyes at him, "Not the Kais, _THE _Kai," he answers as if talking to someone mentally impaired. "Northon Kaoisama didn't get the memo about the dangers of mixing family ties and a poor taste in bodyguards. You see, his sons, Gregory and Bubbles, are currently taking a little vacation along with my father."

Vegeta is left speechless after that revelation, and his eyes widen in surprise. Northon Kaiosama is the most powerful of them all, only second to the very Supreme Kaioshin, who he is said to be in direct line to replace at any moment. If Frieza is holding his sons hostage, then he has his full backup and thus that of the Kais. He is unstoppable.

Revelling in Vegeta's silence, Frieza is empowered to keep on talking. "Enma is getting to be a very persistent pain at my side; In fact, the whole "_hierarchy" _of crime is annoying me," he drawls as if bored, taking a sip of a newly acquired glass of wine and sitting again on his armchair. "Enma will showcase at his casino a very special collection, _the seven dragonballs. _A treasure of insurmountable worth, a badge of status, of power. And I want it. I'll have it."

"Trable is a kid," Vegeta steers the conversation back to where it matters. He has to remind Frieza that if taking his brother was to get his attention, he now has it. "He is not ready to partake in such a job. I will pledge my honour and my loyalty to you in exchange for his safety," he cajoles, swallowing the nausea that those words provoke in him. Now more than ever, he is sure that Tarble won't survive the operation. What Frieza has so nonchalantly implied is a bloodbath, a war against the highest families. He won't have his brother involved in the doomed crusade of a madman for power. He has just signed over his soul, but he doesn't care.

He knows Frieza is a sadistic bastard, who will take pleasure in ending Tarble's life just to get to him. But as long as he needs him to fight against , he will be safe. If he wants him to do it, it's because Enma and everybody else know that he has no ties to the Colds. He just hopes that remarking on his brother's inexperience, Frieza will leave him out of the operation, being as he is extremely picky about the men involved in them.

"You are right," Frieza concedes suspiciously easy. "Your brother is useless, too many brain cells burnt away victims of his nasty meth addiction," he affects a pained expression but it fades away in a second in favour of a calculated smile. "In fact, I have my eye on that blue haired lover of yours."

"_Fuck_," he screams inside his head. Getting what you want doesn't always come with a price you can afford.

.

_Review? =)... Constructive Criticism is always welcomed too! _

_*Shamelessly self-advertising* If you liked this, check out _**_Spark of Blue_**_, _**_Drabbles from Mirai time_**_ and _**_Wishing Well _**_;) I could do with your opinion to improve my writing._

_AN: when my beta gets back at me, I'll post the revised version. Sorry for all the spelling and grammar mistakes... english is not my fisrt language ._

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><p><strong>Preciousjade76: <strong>Sorry for yet another cliffy, ch.12 is almost done! Thanks for the constant feedback!

**To all of you who subscribed and added this to favourites: **Sorry for always forgetting, but Thank you !


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